


Not His Time

by LadyOfSnakes



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, spoilers for episode 68 Cloak and Dagger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 14:06:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8164561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyOfSnakes/pseuds/LadyOfSnakes
Summary: Percival dies, and speaks to the Raven Queen again. She tells him it is not his time.





	

Dying felt very much like drowning.

Percy had tried to ignore Orthax. _Focus on Ripley, she’s what’s tethering him here._ But he’d seen the giant, smokey claw come down, and then there was darkness. Pain, another slash, his lungs filling with blood instead of air...

He wasn’t breathing. Percy blinked and tried to gasp, but nothing came in. He tried to move and found that he could stand, could run, but he didn’t seem to be going anywhere. All around was featureless dark. Just void and himself and, as he finally noticed, a voice.

It was familiar, soft, cold. The Raven Queen spoke with a quiet rhythm. _Come now, little one, there will be no more pain. **You knew it would end like this.** You lived well and should be proud. **Your sister will take care of your children and love them as her own.** It’s okay to let go. **Yes, this is just like falling asleep.** Doctor, your fate was sealed long before this. **You have done well.** Celestia waits for you, faithful._

Percy looked around, trying to listen, trying to piece out what the stream of comforting--and not so comforting--words could mean. He had no aspirations to Celestia. No children. He had not done well. “What...what are you saying, Raven Queen? I do not understand.”

_I am speaking to the dying, Percival. These words are not meant for you._

“But I am dead, aren’t I? Ripley....Orthax killed me.” He put his hand to his chest, to the bullet wound that was still wet, but did not hurt him. There was no gout of blood when he touched it, though. His heart beat no longer.

_I know Vex’ahlia read to you from her book. What is my domain?_

He found himself nodding. Vex’ahlia had read aloud to him a few times, when he’d been working on something in his sketchbook and she had wanted to memorize that book. “You are the goddess of death. Of the moment of death, when a soul leaves its body.”

_I speak to the souls who are passing on._

Percy looked up, around, trying to find the mask, the only image he truly remembered of the Raven Queen. “Am I not moving on then? Am I stuck here?”

_For now. I take people when it is their time. It is not your time, Percival._

“But I was shot!” It did not seem to matter if he whispered or shouted, so Percival shouted. After all of his pain, his grief, he would not mind it being over. If Orthax had a claim on his soul, it was time for a debt to be repaid. “I’m dead.”

_I said it was not your time. You know, Percival, mortals do not make a habit of visiting with gods uninvited._

“You told me mortals can do great things. You did.” He shouted into the void. There was nothing as comforting as an echo in response. For a long time he craned his neck up, waiting for her to reply. Waiting for _something_ other than the whispers she made to others who were passing on.

Finally--it may have been minutes, or hours later--he mumbled, “How is it not my time?”

_Light has need of you. There are some, Percival, who bend the strings of fate around them. And then there are those like you._

“But what does that _mean_?”

_Wait. They are coming._

“Who?” But there was no response to Percy’s question. With a sigh, he sat down to wait. At least he was pretty sure he sat down, as the void was uncomfortably empty and missing any kinds of directional cues like ground or weight.

_Percy._

Percy’s eyes flew open, though he had not realized he had closed them until just then. In the nothingness, there wasn’t enough of a difference. He turned around and called out to the voice, “Pike? Pike, is that you? Are you doing a ritual?”

The voice laughed, a merry sound from behind him. He turned once more, and was greeted by the first sensation he’d had since coming here, a warm wind drifting past him. _My little light is preparing. It is fitting you hear her now._

_Sarenrae._

_Raven Queen. Thank you for keeping him for us._

_It is not his time. Percival, do not visit again until you are ready._

The new voice that was Not-Pike laughed again. _He won’t. I think he’s had enough of us._

Before Percy could protest, or even decide if he should, a heavy hand clapped down onto Percy’s shoulder. Around him a deeper voice echoed, one that he had not heard in so long. _**Child, it is almost time for you to return.**_

“F-Father?” He asked, though he knew it couldn’t be so. Frederick de Rolo had been dead for years. He had to have passed on by now. If he’d been trapped here all this time.... Percy’s heart started to pound and he struggled to breathe. If his father had been suffering here, alone...

_**No, Child, though it is blood of mine that runs in the de Rolo veins. I have slept too long, and so has my line. Defeat the dragons, then return to Whitestone. The threat to the light is greater than you know.** _

The hand on his shoulder started to burn, and Percy’s blood churned with a new heat. He shuddered, feeling something course through him. “What is happening?”

_My little light is bringing you home, Percy. The ritual is complete. Go, with our blessing._

The hand that was not his father’s lifted, and from the distance, a light began to glow. Either they were rushing towards it, or it was coming to them; Percy did not know which. But before the void was gone entirely, the deep voice spoke once more. _**And thank your friend for restoring my tree.**_

Percy gasped and opened his eyes. He lay on a bed, his hands were crossed over his chest, and as he moved them, he scattered diamond dust around the bed. A broken piece of silver dropped to floor, along with a piece of white stone.

“Percival!” Vex, who had been kneeling on the bed beside him, threw her arms over him and buried her face against his neck.

He felt her pour a _cure wounds_ spell into him as he looked around the room, even though he was not in pain. Pike stood beside the bed, smiling gently at him. Cassandra was next to her, tear tracks still staining her face. The rest of Vox Machina stood behind them, grinning as well. (Though Keyleth and Grog both seemed to be hiding tears too, to differing degrees of success.)

“Brother. Do not _ever_ do that to me again.” Cassandra sat down on the edge of the bed and took his hand in both of hers. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Cass.” He felt her squeeze his hand, and he smiled around the mouthful of Vex’ahlia’s hair that he could not avoid. “I’m sorry.”

“No, do _not_ apologize for dying, Percy!” Keyleth began to sob openly, and Vax put his arm around her shoulders.

Percy used his free hand to gently pat Vex’s back. He recognized the room finally; they were in Whitestone again. With a deep breath--and a bit of a sputter, because Vex had a _lot_ of hair--he asked, “What happened? Did you get her?”

“Yes, Percy.” Scanlan answered, and held up a shimmering cloak. “And we got this for you. Here.”

Scanlan carried Cabal’s Ruin over to the bed and laid it at Percy’s feet. The rest of Vox Machina crowded closer, everyone reaching out to touch him in some way. Pike climbed up on the bed next to him and touched his hair gently. “I didn’t know you had brown hair, Percy.”

“What?”

“During the spell, you started to glow, and I heard Sarenrae. Then your hair turned brown, and the scars on your hands faded away.” Pike grinned and ruffled his hair. “Do you feel any different?”

“I don’t know.” He reached up and touched his own hair, discovering a blue feather tucked behind his ear. He smiled. “But I think we have some work to do still.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may eventually continue this, depending on what happens tonight. To make it clear, Pelor is the third voice, and he awakens a line of Aasimar in Percy's blood. 
> 
> the working title of this is and will forever be "actual literal angel percy"


End file.
